


Lovely Creature

by valeskaduh



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, bruised ego
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeskaduh/pseuds/valeskaduh
Summary: After discovering you among all the chaos Jerome created that night with a few words, he wanted to possess you at all costs, which turned out to be more difficult than expected, especially since you didn't seem to know him and already belonged to someone else ...
Relationships: Jerome Valeska/Reader, Jerome Valeska/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Lovely Creature

**Author's Note:**

> If you have black hair, congratulations! And if you don't have black hair ... you are wearing a wig! At least that's how Jerome described it. It's (unfortunately) an unfinished one-shot. Lost inspiration, but you can still read it. It doesn't have a happy ending though.

_Breathtaking_.

That's how Jerome would describe you. Only a few hours ago he was chosen to see the light of this cruel world for the second time in his life, ( _was_ — _according to his speech for Gotham_ — _reborn_ ) and you already threatened to squeeze the air out of his lungs, pop them like a balloon. You made his heart pound faster, so fast that he thought it would explode at any moment and spread blood all over his guts, paint his inwards in a pretty red. Just looking at your incredible beauty with the naked eye was a risk, because your charisma could simply take away his sight, make him go blind. You would probably be the calmest slit to his neck while he bleeds to death ( _and he had to know it_ ).

Jerome wasn’t sure if this was your real hair ( _it could have been a wig_ ), but it was pitch-black and tied into high pigtails. These would dance around your good-looking face with every jerky move you make. But the make-up was the most interesting part about your appearance. The white powder made you look pale, while your lips were covered in black ( _you probably used a dark lipstick_ ). Left and right of your mouth, the black color ran over the corners to your cheeks, reminding him of his own scars. Your gaze was directed towards a booth where one of his cult followers was swinging a hammer, trying to smash one of the heads in that kept popping up. When he managed to break the skull of an old lady, her blood splattered everywhere and glazed both the laughing man's dirty clothes and his face like a sugar-coated pastry. Instead of enjoying this sight ( _as he did_ ) you disgustedly pulled a face and set your eyes on another stand; the carousel from which circus music resounded.

Your name was sadly unknown to Jerome, but you had to be a part of his cult, otherwise you wouldn't be here ( _which was a benefit_ ) and at all costs he wanted to find out what name you went by. Even though he forgot how to flirt, his head still feeling a little fuzzy.

“ _Okay, buddy. You can do it. Chin up, chest out._ ” The in his early twenties’ cult leader gave his best to encourage himself in his confused thoughts about destruction and killing. Flirting shouldn't be that difficult, especially because the women were queuing up for him. At least that's what he was thinking.

Just as Jerome was about to make his way to you, he heard one of his half-baked henchmen nervously say, “Boss, what about Bruce Wayne?”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep him warm till I get back.”

“But –”

“Shut up!” The red-haired boy cut him off, glancing at his hanger-on. Jerome’s eyes were filled with potential hazard that made his subordinate lower his head. Satisfied with the reaction of him, he turned his attention back to you. You were still standing alone in the midst of a chaos he created. Screams filled the cold evening air. While some of the humans screeched in fear, the others did in pain. It was beautiful. Not remotely as you, but somewhere around there.

As Jerome came closer and closer to you, he kept looking at you with interest from head to toe and he would always notice something new about you. In one hand you held two balloons ( _a black and a red one_ ) which matched your short dress, while in your other one was a lollipop which you led to your lips and swirled your tongue around it. Dirty thoughts crept into his mind and made him wonder what else this tongue was able to play around. After he reached you, he let his gaze drift over your figure one last time. You were definitely wearing contact lenses. One eye of yours was red and the other one black. You portrayed a sexy killer clown and he glorified it.

It took you a while to notice the person in front of you, because your gaze wandered through the crowd, looking for something or rather someone. After you detected the presence of the red-haired boy, you gave him your fullest attention. He was greeting you with a creepy smile. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, still licking your strawberry flavored lollipop and stared at the guy opposite you. His greenish eyes were fixed on your lips as if they had hypnotized him.

“What else can that mouth do?” Jerome bit his tongue as he was enraged at his own stupidity. That was not how he wanted to start the conversation, but you just could not stop sucking on that damn lollipop.

You didn't seem happy about his offensive pick-up line, but instead of slapping him in the face, you crushed the candy with your bare teeth. With each of your bites it crunched loudly, which made the boy whimper. Apparently, he understood that you weren’t interested in such a chat, that you would — _in all probability_ — chomp into his member and tear it off.

“I wasn’t thinking about that … although I kind of did — that's not what this is about right now, _sweetie_. Just forget what I said, that would be nice … so, what's your name?”

Wordlessly you looked at him until you threw the stick of your lollipop over your shoulder and introduced yourself with a short-spoken, “(Y/n).”

Jerome was aware that he fucked up everything ( _as he usually did_ ). Still, he wouldn’t give up, he was actually interested in getting to know you. So, he told you his name, too ( _unlike you he did it with a big grin_ ).

“I know who you are. You were on the news.” He would have expected more enthusiasm. You said that like it was no big deal, like Jerome was just one of many. He literally rose from the dead, plunged Gotham into total darkness, probably brought the chaos of the century upon this city and you just didn't care. It confused him because he usually got positive ( _from his cult_ ) or negative ( _from the GCPD_ ) reactions. And you seemed like he was bugging you. “Welcome back, _Jeremy_.”

“It's _Jerome_!” He couldn’t hide the horror on his ruined face. You didn’t know him, you didn’t even know his _given name_ , yet you were clearly a part of his cult. _How was that possible?_ You even dressed up as a clown. Instead of being annoyed by him, you should give yourself to him and treat him like a god, _your god_.

Your next words felt as if a dagger pierced his chest and buried itself deep into his heart, blood streaming from all sides. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Listen here, you –” He paused, suppressed the urge to attack you with insults and overplayed it with a — “ _lovely creature_ ” — making you raise your eyebrows. His goal wasn’t to intimidate you. It's the last thing Jerome would have wanted. But somehow it was hard not to lose self-control and start threatening you ( _since you were behaving like a bitch_ ). “We're on the same side and I want to get to know you. I spotted you earlier and thought we might have a little chat.”

“Mmm,” was your hard-hearted response. Before your attitude towards Jerome could make him furious, you targeted the many scars in his visage, asking him bluntly, “What happened to your face?”

He was visibly taken aback by your question. Surprised, but also pleased. At least he somehow managed to arouse your interest. That seemed to be the hardest part. “Some moron cut it off and I had to staple it back on — you wanna touch it?”

With a smirk that exposed his shining white teeth he came a little closer to you. Immediately you took a step backwards, disgust flickering in your eyes. If that was one of his many pick-up lines, you've definitely had enough of them. “That’s gross!”

Jerome grinded his teeth but before he could lose even a thought about how he would rip you to shreds, you added loftily, “By the way, I have a sweetheart, _bro_.”

His eyes widened. The fact that you had just called him — “ _bro_ ” — and told him that you were already taken, felt like a slap in the face. Jerome had never been put in the friendzone or rather brotherzone. You hadn't even put him there; you would just cut him right out of your life ( _like he was chewed gum under the sole of your shoe and you just scraped him off_ ). Jerome noticed how you slithered out of his sneaky hands, like a snake that wriggled back and forth until it had completely freed itself and made its way in the opposite direction, far away from him.

“No, no, no. I don't think you understand, (y/n).” The cult leader wouldn't let you get away from him that easily and to be honest, he didn't give a shit about your lover-boy. Jerome would still attempt to wrap you around his little finger, which seemed like an act of desperation. “It's me, (y/n). Jerome Valeska. Parricide, The Great Rodolfo, Gotham's greatest nightmare with a healthy dose of humor.”

You rolled your eyes. “I'm aware.”

“No, you're not!” He yelled at you, baring his teeth like a wild animal, which was about to lose control. After the red-haired boy spotted the terrified expression on your pretty face, he took a deep breath in and out to calm down again. “Sorry, I didn't mean to –”

“Creep.” You strutted past the lunatic, your balloons skimming over his features.

As fast as you disappeared, he couldn't react in time. So, he stared at your back, had to process what just happened. You were making your way to a guy who apparently had to be your sweetheart because he hugged you and gave you a peck on the lips, which made Jerome growl. Your boyfriend was ugly – his big nose with that black moustache under it and then this ridiculous make-up on his face. Everything about your Romeo was hideous. He wondered what you saw in him. _Was he perhaps well endowed?_

Bitterly, he turned away from you and walked to his supporters who were looking after Bruce Wayne. Jerome noticed immediately that the teenager had followed the whole event, as the corners of his mouth tried to twitch upwards, making fun of him. Out of nowhere, he grabbed the black-haired teen by the collar and lifted him up into the air. “What's so funny, huh? Don't you wanna share your joke with us? Come on!”

Bruce's eyes widened in panic. “Nothing. I –”

“Liar! You shouldn’t lull yourself too early on a false sense of security, kiddo. I really don't care who you represent. If I want to kill you right now, I will kill you right now, got it? Don’t you ever make fun of a sexually frustrated man!”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean … to provoke you. You're right, it's not funny.”

Surprised at his sincere apology, the cult leader frowned, but put the teenager down, taking a few steps back. His minions remained silent, gawking at their savior with eagerness. They were obviously waiting for orders. Jerome cleared his throat. “Well, let's skip to the main attraction, shall we?”


End file.
